The Wedding Must Go On (8 page)

Marla was being wry about Greg’s predicament but she had a point. That website made this place look like an Outback palace. Maybe once—a long time ago. Not that luxury was needed for love to thrive. Heck, just look at his parents.

As Marla headed back inside, Greg picked up his bag. ‘I should thank you both for organizing this, but I’ll hold off to see how it all pans out. I could as easily end up with a fry pan landing on my head as getting Marla’s arms back around me.’ He moved off. ‘Hope you have something amazing lined up for your next Act.’

Sitting in that flaky timber setting, shards of early afternoon sun slanting in, Roxy had never looked more beautiful or more uncertain. She gripped her chair’s arm and waited until Greg was out of earshot before asking, ‘I know the overall plan but … what exactly
do
we have lined up?’

Nate leaned closer and, fighting the overwhelming urge to tell her to forget about the other two for a moment and to concentrate working on them, he assured her.

‘Our next move can’t fail. It involves heating things up at the same time they’re both cooling down.’

She nodded slowly. ‘The creek.’

‘You and I can splash around, share a bit of laughter and lift this mood. When they lower their guard, join in and start talking, we’ll leave them to their own devices.’

‘I packed a swimsuit.’

‘I’m hoping swimsuits won’t be needed for long.’ When she flashed him a look, he back-pedalled quick. ‘For Greg and Marla, I mean.’

Suspicion darkened her face. ‘I agreed to help. I’m here. But in case you have something else in mind, I’ll be clear.
Not happening
.’

He feigned innocence. ‘What’s not happening?’

‘Us getting too close.’

‘How close is too close?’

She deadpanned, ‘Kissing-distance close, Nate.’

‘Thing is, I think if we show Marla that we’ve gotten over our differences, she’d be more amenable to getting over theirs.’

‘Only we
haven’t
gotten over our differences.’

‘Right.’ His gaze flicked to her full pink lips, then back to her determined gaze and he shrugged. ‘I just thought you meant what you said.’

‘And just what did I say?’

‘That you liked me holding you.’ He leaned a smidgeon closer. ‘Kissing you.’

Her eyes widened and her mouth quivered before she found a threadbare voice. ‘That is
not
the point.’

‘What is the point?’

‘That you have some crazy idea about curses and, frankly, I don’t trust you.’

He remembered the way she’d moved against him, the way she’d sighed in her throat. She’d trusted him then—before she’d frozen up. Now he wondered again. ‘You never did tell me why you got distracted that night on your couch.’

A blush stained her cheeks and she gripped that chair arm again. ‘None of that matters now.’

‘Because you believe in letting bygones be bygones?’

‘Because you and me—
us, Nate
—we’re done. I agreed to come here only to help Marla, not get all up-close-and-personal with you.’

She stormed inside, a clapped-out screen door slamming behind her, while Nate bit down to stop himself from hauling her back and letting her know just how wrong she was. She thought they were done? Seeing her again, having her near—it only made his reasoning these past days clearer. Stronger. Maybe he wouldn’t make love to Roxy the way he’d been dreaming, but one thing was certain.

With four days and four nights, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

T
HE
creek turned out to be divine—a wide meandering stream shaded by the far-reaching branches of sleepy coolabahs. The water, babbling over a scattering of polished stones, was clearer than any Roxy had seen. Given the hot afternoon, with neither breeze nor cloud to soften the hard beat of the sun, it also looked wonderfully cool.

Cool
was precisely what this scene called for.

Half an hour after Nate’s confession on the verandah, Marla sat nearby atop a flat rock overhanging the water, tight-lipped and looking as if she’d rather be chewing ground glass. His face hard, Greg was throwing stones into the water, waiting for the ripples to die before casting another. From the concentrated expression on Nate’s face, he was concocting a way to break the deadlock.

Roxy huffed.

Good luck with that.

Suddenly animated, Nate kicked off his shoes, then rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, no use standing around. I’m going in. Who’s joining me?’ The other two ignored him, so he turned to Roxy and asked, ‘How about it?’

She forced a smile when inside she was shaking. Not because of Marla and Greg’s continuing standoff—although that was discouraging. Not because she was about to peel off this dress and reveal her figure in a bikini, even if her
thighs and butt were larger than she’d have liked. What troubled her was what Nate had planned. Some splashing, he’d said. A little laughter. Together in that creek. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to back out, go home.

Surveying the water, Nate began removing his shirt, absently unbuttoning, then rolling one big shoulder out of the fabric and the next while Roxy could only stare. Many times, particularly late at night, she’d imagined him sans shirt. She’d expected broad and naturally bronzed, but never this much superbly honed sinew and muscle. That body belonged on a billboard.

Then he started on his jeans.

But, hand on fly, he stilled. She felt him look over and, guilty, her gaze flew up to his. He was smiling, a smouldering knowing grin that lit his eyes and set her face and blood on fire.

Gathering her thoughts, she cleared her throat and angled away. From the corner of her eye, she saw him strolling over … felt him studying her from top to curling toe.

‘You’re coming in, aren’t you?’ He eased the jeans down over two long hard thighs. ‘Need some help? A zip maybe?’

Sparks rushed through her veins. His remark was meant to remind her of that afternoon in her shop and how he’d drawn her near a heartbeat before his mouth had claimed hers. She’d been lost in his embrace that day—that night too, as well as the evening when he’d dropped her off from Marla and Greg’s engagement party six months ago. Each time they’d been fully clothed. The only bare flesh had been their lips, their hands. If he touched her now, given what he
wasn’t
wearing, her feet might
never
find the ground.

Jeans kicked aside, he ran a thumb around the inside band of black shorts that hung perfectly on his lean hips. Was it the trail of dark hair, or the hard outline of sculpted
abdominal muscles that dipped beneath the band of shorts beside his thumb? Whatever the lure, that span between navel and what those shorts were hiding shouldn’t be allowed out in public without a licence.

When she caught his words, ‘Maybe I should throw you in,’ Roxy was hauled back.

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘What if I do?’

As he prowled closer, those gorgeous shoulders rolling towards her, she backed up and warned him, ‘You never know. I might scream.’

‘I’ll risk it.’

‘You don’t take those kinds of risks.’

‘Maybe I’m on the cusp of a change.’

‘And maybe my hair is green.’

Her back met with a massive tree trunk. Boulders rose up either side. Attempt at escape was useless.

Grinning, he kept coming until his chest was so close, if she’d tipped forward a few degrees, she could run her lips over that masterpiece and taste it.

His voice lowered to a deep and private whisper. ‘Hey, I think we have their attention.’

She blinked and almost asked,
Whose attention?
But then elements other than the bone-melting effect of his musky scent and body heat filtered through the fog, and she remembered the true situation and slid a surreptitious look the warring couple’s way. Although pretending not to, both Marla and Greg were watching, interested, obviously waiting for their next move.

Nate whispered again, a hypnotic sexy drawl.

‘Now, take off your clothes.’

Her skin flashing hot, Roxy moistened her lips. But she was overreacting. Of course, he knew she wore a swimsuit underneath. She corrected him.

‘You mean take off my
dress
.’

‘That’s a start.’ He cocked his head and summed her up again, his X-ray gaze devouring every inch.

‘On second thought,’ he said, ‘I vote we strip you in the water.’

Knees gone to jelly, she pressed back against the trunk and tried to sound unaffected. ‘Who said anything about a vote? This isn’t a democracy.’

‘You’re right.’ His brows nudged together. ‘It’s not.’

He moved so fast, she didn’t have time to duck under his arm or try to push him away, not that either move would’ve made a difference. When Nate scooped her up, she was faced with a testosterone-infused power that both alarmed and, frankly, excited her too. As those muscles locked her effortlessly in and he carried her with sure long strides towards the creek, she felt energized and aroused—a glaring contrast to how she
ought
to feel. She should be outraged, not secretly plagued by the desire to press more into the hard hot feel of him. At least she was genuinely shrieking, kicking her legs and begging that he let her down. If she went swimming, she’d get in at her own pace.

Nate crashed through the water, cool wet soaked up her dress and, laughing, he asked, ‘Would you rather fast or slow?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Do you prefer to be dumped or swirled in bit by bit?’

Pushing a palm against his granite chest, she struggled and muttered, ‘As if my opinion counts.’

‘I like the idea of hearing you scream out my name as I throw you up into the air. But drawing out the experience, taking it slow, appeals even more.’

The fiend
. He wasn’t talking about the water. He was letting her know how he wanted to take her in a physical, purely sexual sense, even after she’d told him again
that wasn’t happening. And it
wasn’t
. Nothing could make her climb on that hot-cold, curse-on/curse-off, merry-go-round again, no matter how incredibly wonderful his body looked, smelled.
Felt
.

When he swirled around, pebbles crunched beneath his feet and silky water sluiced up her back, over her hips. Loathing to be dropped, she clung on, one arm twined around his strong neck. The hand that had previously pushed at him was now, of necessity, gripping one exceptionally firm pec. He checked out her hold and arched a brow.

‘I think you’re enjoying this.’

She growled. ‘Enjoy this.’

Reaching down, she swept up a handful and flung water up at his face.

His every fibre seemed to tense before he shook his head quickly to shift the glistening droplets from his hair. Growling himself now—but with pleasure, not irritation—he pinned her with a devilish look that made her regret she’d tested him. His grin slowly grew, then, without warning, as she’d feared, she was dropped into the drink.

Two seconds later, she came up spluttering—and, damn the man, ready to fight.

She jumped at him—
on
him—and somehow managed to push him over. Or had he simply let her? Either way, she was on top now and intended to take every advantage. Pushing on his shoulders, she forced his smirk under the ripples. The next instant, he was pushing back, jettisoning her over and into the stream.

She battled back and he let her gain ground before he secured her—his hands around and near spanning her waist—while she thrashed and twisted. She’d never been more riled … and he’d never seemed more attractive, particularly with his chest filled with rumbling laughter.

Thing was that she was laughing too—and so hard, she felt
filled
with it.

As the moment stretched out the struggling and laughter eased, but they continued holding and steadying each other. Her hands at the base of his neck, his clasped around her middle, their laboured breathing evened as Roxy grew profoundly aware of those male fingers digging into her flesh, of the way his gaze stroked her lips and how desperately she wanted him to act again without asking permission. This minute.
Now
. She needed him to go ahead and kiss her till the world stopped turning and she couldn’t remember who she was, or where, or why …

Without conscious thought, her fingers filed up the cool wet column of his throat, over the hot pulse that beat below his ear, then around the sexy sandpaper-rough of his jaw while his loaded gaze smouldered into hers. As her heartbeat thundered on she drew a line along the bow of his full lower lip and marvelled at how his expression intensified and the muscles in her belly contracted and warmed.

With painstaking care, he lifted her a little higher so that her still-sandalled toes left the creek floor. Falling deeper into the trance, she allowed her eyes to drift shut while she waited for their lips to touch … for his mouth to capture and consume her. Instead she heard her name murmured as if the words had come from afar.

‘Roxy, it’s over.’

Her eyes dragged open. His face—that mouth—was tantalizingly close and his breath was teasingly warm on her cheek. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Why on earth was he waiting?

‘What’s over?’ she asked.

‘They’ve gone. Or at least I’m pretty sure they are.’

Her first thought was to bat those words aside. All she cared about was melding into Nate’s caress, knowing more
about this sizzle and pull. But as he continued to look down at her, dark brows knitted, her mind shifted and she swam up from the haze. The splashing, joking
—flirting
.

This wasn’t for
their
benefit. It was for Marla and Greg’s.

If she’d thought her heart had hammered before, this moment her chest—her entire body—felt as if it were booming. Nate’s charm never failed to entice her.
Entrap
her. She was as vulnerable this moment as she’d been every other time they’d touched. Her nerve-endings buzzing, she felt aroused to her very core.

But more so she was embarrassed. He’d told her they should let their friends believe they’d got past their differences. But Greg and Marla weren’t the only ones fooled. And why shouldn’t she be convinced? Nate should give lessons.

Water dripping down her face, she angled to see. Where previously their friends had stood, only dry gum leaves now lay. Lowering her arms, she flicked her wet hands and assumed a resigned mask.

‘Maybe they’ve gone for a trek down the bank.’

Mr Glenrowan had suggested they take his pickup in case, after a big swim, anyone was too tired to walk back. Parking just beyond the bank’s skirt of trees, Nate had left the keys in the ignition. Now, they heard that engine splutter to life. Next came a series of distant gear crunches, then the sound of tyres rolling away.

Roxy slouched. ‘Well, that was a waste of time.’

‘Depends how you look at it.’

The smile and intent was back in his eyes. A pulse popped low in his cheek at the same time his attention dipped to sweep a scorching line across her lips. Then he tipped closer, edged damp hair aside and dropped a light moist kiss on a particularly sensitive part of her neck.

‘I don’t think they’ll come back,’ he murmured. ‘Doesn’t mean we have to leave.’ He nuzzled along the line of her jaw, then, at last, his mouth veered towards hers and brushed a single haunting time.

Their lips all but touching, they peered into each other’s eyes. When his head drew back an inch, caught again in the tide, she followed and this time her lips did the grazing—once, twice and over again. He might drive her mad but, this minute, she had less than no willpower where he was concerned. If he didn’t kiss her in earnest and soon, to hell with it. She’d latch on and drag his head down herself.

Instead, his hot palms slid up over the front of her dress and she began to dissolve as he took his time releasing each button. With drops running down her back, her arms, and her mind and senses racing, she stood before him quivering, waiting, until finally the dress fell into the water that ringed her thighs. Reaching around, he undid her bikini top and caught the scrap of yellow Lycra before it dropped. Then one palm sculpted over the bare-skinned curve of her waist, a hip, at the same time he carefully hunkered down.

While she held her breath, he released her bikini bottom bows then two long fingers slid between her legs and dragged the wet bottoms out. He bunched them in the same hand that held the top, curled his free palm around her back upper thigh and urged her forward when his head slanted and came in.

His mouth touched her just shy of her sex and when the stiff tip of his tongue tickled the spot, her neck rocked back and hands automatically fisted in the damp of his hair. Despite the cool water, she burned all over. Her blood felt on fire and her lungs couldn’t grasp enough air. Then he was sucking, so lightly, with such skill, Roxy worried she might begin to shake beneath the thrill of it. He shifted
slightly and, the next she knew, his scratchy chin was rubbing up the sensitive cleft at the apex of her thighs.

Flames shot through her body. She didn’t care that they were out in the open. Hell, she wouldn’t have the strength to stop if they were making love in the centre of Sydney. And standing here completely naked, enjoying the waves he so effortlessly whipped up inside her, she only wanted the sensations—the way he played and moved with her—to go on and on.

His head came down enough for his lips to nuzzle then to stroke her with his tongue. She clenched—her thighs, her stomach, her teeth—and ploughed her fingers over the back of his scalp, across that broad slick ledge of shoulder. His hand bracing the back of her thigh, he pressed her in more and hummed in satisfaction as he drew that small pulsing part of her into his mouth.